


Cilantro!fic

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-26 18:01:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: If you hate cilantro, and love Brian and Justin...





	Cilantro!fic

  
Author's notes: pure crack. Possibly best not to ask how this came about...  


* * *

**Cilantro!fic**  
By Xie

Brian was looking through Justin's shopping bags while Justin unpacked the takeout containers. "Okay. I've put up with a lot. I've put up with the hoodies and the cargo pants that fall off you – for my own reasons, I'll admit – and I've put up with the pink t-shirt phase, the buzzcut, and the artistic black turtlenecks."

Justin looked up from where he was putting food on the plate. "And?"

"But I'll be fucked if I'm going to put up with this." He was holding up a pair of Crocs by their straps.

Justin shrugged. "They're comfortable. I need them for working in my studio. They're recommended by the U.S. Ergonomics Council and the American Podiatric Medical Association."

Brian looked horrified. "Those are not the labels I look for when I'm buying shoes."

Justin carried their plates over to the table. "I think we're all well aware of that."

Brian sat at the table, and frowned. Then he stopped frowning, because he was getting sensitive about the lines around his eyes. "What the fuck is this?"

"Lemon cilantro chicken from that new Italian place."

Brian pushed the plate away. "That's it, Sunshine. Out."

Justin kept eating. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I can put up with almost anything. I can deal with your ugly clothes. I can deal with those things you want to wear on your feet. I can accept that you once thought you liked classical music, that you know I only have one ball and even suck on the fake one like it was real. I can accept that now and then you absolutely have to stick your dick up my ass, and that you occasionally think babies are cute and refuse to agree never to want one. But I cannot and will not live with someone – nor, I might add, swallow the come of someone – who eats cilantro."

Justin sat there, stunned. He had honestly thought Brian had come a lot further than this. After he'd moved back from New York just to be with him, and even accepted buying the loft downstairs to turn into a walk-in closet for Brian's black shirts! "Brian… we're partners…"

Brian's mouth was grim. "Not anymore, Sunshine. Get out." And he calmly stood up and started putting the chicken down the garbage disposal.

Justin burst into tears, grabbed his black duffle bag that he always kept packed and ready, and ran out the door. As he was crossing the street, he was hit by a bus. As he lay dying, all he could hear was the sound of Brian, his arms wrapped around Carl as they passionately kissed, laughing at him, while someone grabbed his shoulder…

"Justin… wake the fuck up!"

It was Brian, gently shaking him awake. Justin sat up and shoved his hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "I… it must have been a nightmare."

Brian wrapped him in his arms, nuzzling him gently back into lying down. "The same one?"

Justin looked up at him. "No. Really, not at all." He nestled his face in Brian's chest and closed his eyes again.

Just as he was falling back to sleep, he heard Brian yawn and felt him kiss his hair. "That'll teach you to eat that cilantro crap before bed. I told you it was poison."


End file.
